


Downright (*)

by doodnoice



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Female Reader, Heavy Drinking, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 07:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodnoice/pseuds/doodnoice
Summary: You fell for Dante--hard, but you're sure doesn't see you in the same way at all. After taking you to the club for your birthday, he ditches you for three other ladies, so, fed up with pining after him, and wasting your time, you go out of your way to make him jealous, and end up with a lot more than you expected.-Dante/Reader





	1. *vindictive

Dante is a demon hunter--everyone who is anyone knows that. There is no shortage of stories telling of his many great and righteous deeds. Dante did fight and win against Mundus, after all, so of course the half-human would be praised and cursed for centuries to come. And with this fame and notoriety comes a heavy chance for narcissism, or, at the very least, reckless behavior. Still, you're unsure which gives cause to a man to take his work partner out for her birthday only to end up with three different girls on his arm, and none of them be her. Whatever it is, you hate it all the same.

You don't know what you expected, though. Given Dante's reputation (and boy, is it a big one), you would have been more surprised if he hadn't smooth talked his way into a couple of pretty ladies' pants. But couldn't one of them at least have been you? Sure, you would have probably, maybe turned him down, but Dante had only bought you a single drink, and hadn't spared you a glance since.

With a sigh, you tilt your head back and slam another shot of whiskey, willing the sick pang of jealousy in your chest away with the burn in your throat. You feel someone sit beside you at the bar, and you hate yourself for wanting it to be Dante, but your logical side knows it's not--not with the twins and their even hotter friend taking up his time.

Instead, a relatively attractive man you don't recognize is sitting there, looking you over with a hazy expression of interest. "Mind if I sit here?" he asks, despite already sitting and having been sitting there for around two minutes before he mustered up the courage to talk to you.

"Already are," you take another shot, and motion for the bartender to pour you another. When he does with a wary expression, you wonder why he just doesn't leave you the bottle.

"You look bored." the man says.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, and knock back another shot, "Could say that." 

"Just seems that way, is all." He pauses for a second before thumbing behind himself where undoubtedly Dante and his newly acquainted 'friends' are sitting, "Your boyfriend over there looks like he's having fun."

You don't even need to glance over to know who he's talking about, "Not my boyfriend," you flag the bartender down and order a beer, deciding to slow down just the slightest bit so as to not pass out, because you highly doubt Dante would take you home. When you have your beer in hand, you crack it open and take a swig before turning to look at the man beside you, "He's my work partner."

The man smiles, and you're not sure if it's the fact that you're drunk or that he's actually attractive, but you find yourself admiring his grin, "You always go slinking over to the bar to get shitfaced when your 'co-worker' manages to snag... several dates?"

You shrug, "Not usually. Then again, my partners don't usually take me out on my birthday to buy me a drink, only to ditch me for three hot girls." Against your better judgement, you glance over and see that one of the girls has disappeared while another is at his mouth, and another still is leaning up and kissing his neck. You think you see the table shake, and grimace, turning away to chug a third of your beer in one gulp. You sigh and roll your neck, clearing the lump in your throat with a low cough, "Can't blame him."

"I can," the man says, "He chooses them over the prettiest girl in the club. He's missing out."

Distantly, you hear Dante growl playfully and the girls giggle. You down another third, "You use that line on all the girls, or am I just special?" before he can respond, you stare him down with the most bland expression you can muster, "Look, you can quit the act. I'm really just here to get shitfaced before I hail a taxi and go home to sleep off my impending hangover."

"Not an act," the man assures you, holding his hands up in mock defense, "Just wondering if you're willing to maybe celebrate your birthday with me is all." He flashes you another award winning smile, "Your partner shouldn't be the only one having fun, tonight."

Quietly, you weigh your options: you could stay here and keep wracking up Dante's tab, bored, alone, and drunk out of your mind, or you could get laid by a total stranger. At best, he's gives amazing head, and is a pretty decent lay. At worst, he's a demon-- _well, actually..._

"You clean?" you ask bluntly, eyeing the man as you sip your beer.

He laughs and gives you this sort of awkward grin, "Yeah, of course... are _you_?"

You snort and smile at him past the lip of your drink, "Of course."

So, yeah, at worst, he's a demon or a serial killer (or he's lying, but you don't want to think about that, right now), and if he's a demon, serial killer, or lying, your worst still turns out to be the best case scenario, because then you'll be able to work out your jealousy in the form of absolutely destroying a sicko via the gun tucked in your purse or otherwise your fists.

You give the man another once over and grunt, _At least he's hot._ "Let's go," you say.

The man stands as you finish your beer, "Your place, or mine?"

You look over at Dante who is being led away by the fantastic trio and towards the bathroom. You check your bag for your gun, and nod, "Your place."

As the man takes your hand and leads you out of the crowded club, he turns to you with another panty dropping smile, "I promise, I'll make sure this is a night you'll never forget."


	2. *stupid

Turns out, the guy _was_ a pretty decent lay. You don't remember his name, or if he even gave it to you, but you learned the important parts about him like the fact he did, in fact, give great head, was amazing at dirty talk, and didn't even mind not fucking you after you came the first time and told him you needed a breather before you could keep going.

Even though you were thinking about Dante the entire time the guy was eating you out--you might have even cried out Dante's name at one point, but, if you did, the guy never said anything--over all, you had a fun time feeling like you mattered, if only for a shallow few moments. The only downside to the evening was waking up, ready to actually get it in, only to meet the stranger's lips and be racked with an immediate, striking pain, because, _oh yeah_ , _that's right,_ the man was actually a fucking incubus and he was trying to suck your damn soul out of your body, because even the simplest, most innocuous of nights can't ever go right for you.

It only took a few moments, but after wrestling the demon off of you and pulling out your gun, he was a dead incubus piece of shit and you weren't even horny anymore. Then, the hotel door burst open, and a throng of demons began pouring in, and, by the end of it, you had run out of bullets, your nice clothes had been ripped, and your night was, in all, absolutely ruined. 

After rinsing off, you left the trashed hotel room, which, in hindsight, should have thrown up more red flags than it did when you first showed up. You paused only to place a twenty spot on the somehow unscathed night stand, because there was demon ash everywhere, the window and most of the furniture had been broken, and you felt bad for whoever was going to be made to clean it up when you're gone. From there, everything was a blur of bright light and one pounding, obnoxious headache.

You hailed a cab, mumbled your destination, and held your head in your hands as you waited for the driver to tell you you've arrived at your destination. When he did, you paid, exited the cab, and stumbled into the Devil May Cry where you didn't so much as murmur 'hello' to Dante as he turned away from rummaging through his desk to look at you, mouth opening in shock. You passed him, feeling your gut clench as you staggered into the bathroom, dropped to your knees in front of the toilet, and promptly threw up every liquid you were stupid enough to drink into the bowl.

Mid dry heave, you feel a pair of hands gather your hair and hold it away from your face as you seemingly vomit everything you've ever eaten in your entire adult life. When you're sure that you're no longer in danger of throwing up, you flush the toilet and lean back against leather clad shins dizzily. Dante looks down at you, his face a cross between amusement and worry and something else you can't quite put your finger on, "Rough night?" he chuckles, but the sound is strained as his hand releases your hair in favor of stroking across your forehead softly.

Your brows furrow; you sort of want to punch him, because he's being so sweet even though he ditched you on your birthday, so instead, you grunt and move to stand and thoroughly rinse your mouth out with a mix of water and baking soda. Afterwards, you shuffle out of the bathroom with a hoarse, "thanks", feeling funny about the whole situation: the getting drunk, the jealousy, the sleeping with a stranger in some messed up revenge trip against your business partner, and then said business partner taking the time to hold your hair as you threw up. You don't know what to think, so you decide not to as you enter the small kitchenette in the back, grab an aspirin, some plain crackers, and a glass of tap water before you sit at your desk.

A few moments after downing the aspirin and forcing yourself to nibble on a saltine, Dante emerges from the bathroom. You don't look at him, much too busy resting your eyes to even notice the man until he sits down in a chair in front of you and props his feet up on your desk. You glance at him through tired eyes, put down the cracker, and frown, "What are you doing?"

"You wanna explain what happened, or should I just go with my best guess?" Dante looks at you with a small smirk, but from the dullness in his eyes you can tell he's not quite happy.

You roll your eyes and return to nibbling on your cracker, "Nothing," you mumble, stomach roiling at finally having his attention, but not at all at what you had to do to get it.

You weren't really one for one-night stands, but you were so hurt and drunk last night you didn't really care where you went or with who, because you wanted to forget Dante for one goddamn second and prove to yourself that he's not all that, but you couldn't even do that right. Damn demons always ruin everything for you. You glance at Dante and think, _"Half-demons, too, apparently,"_ before pretending to read one of several random papers on your desk.

"Oh, really?" Dante drawls, dropping his boot clad feet on the ground, "So, you going home with a total stranger in order to make me jealous is 'nothing'?"

"I wasn't trying to make you jealous!" you shout too quickly and almost definitely too loudly as you look up at him. When Dante only smirks at you, you wrinkle your nose and turn back to look at your papers, murmuring, "And even if I was, my night was still shit, because it turned out the guy was a demon and he brought a whole lot of friends with him."

"Did they hurt you?" Dante says, voice low and so dry you find yourself glancing up and meeting his piercing blue eyes. His lips are pressed into a thin line, shoulders taut as he stares you down.

You, once again, look away, "Of course not. I'm a demon hunter, too, remember?" you say, sounding not unlike a petulant child trying to prove to their parent they're capable enough to be an adult, but your words bring back the light atmosphere and a hearty laugh out of Dante, so you can't say you're as annoyed as you're trying to make yourself out to be. 

Humming, Dante stands to his full height to walk around your desk and face you fully. When you don't meet his gaze, just stare at the same line of words,--not reading, not pretending to read, just _staring_ \--Dante pulls and turns your chair so that you, too, are facing him, before he kneels in front of you with a coy smile like he usually does when he's fake flirting with you, "Y'know, if you would have just said something, maybe we could have both had fun last night... real fun. You and me."

You scoff, trying your best to act nonchalant despite the heat spreading across your cheeks and the tips of your ears, "What? Did the twins and their hot best friend disappoint, or do you really think I'm stupid enough to think you didn't have fun all on your own?"

At that, Dante's smile drops, his brows furrowing as he falls back on his haunches and runs a hand through his silvery hair, "Yeah, I can't--I don't have any real excuse for how I ditched you last night, because I should have been paying attention, but I do have an explanation-" when you scoot back in an effort to leave, not particularly wanting to deal with whatever lie he's going to come up with, Dante grabs your hand and urges you to sit back down, "Whoa! Hold on, now; just hear me out, ok?" warily, you sit down, unsure if the sick feeling in your stomach is from your hangover or from the anticipating story Dante's prepared, so you just listen, "The whole bar was a set up... well, at least half of it was--the other half were normal people, I think."

You raise a brow at that, not quite believing, but also realizing the look on Dante's face isn't one of playfulness--he actually looks kind of upset, "What do you mean?" you say quietly, noticing that Dante's hand is still in yours, so, on a whim, you gently squeeze it reassuringly.

Dante gazes up at you, an awkward grimace mixed with a tight smirk as he continues, "While I wasn't paying attention, someone slipped me something--some sort of demonic shit mixed with something like horse tranquilizer. I really had no idea what the hell was going on until they were dragging me away and you were leaving the bar with that asshole." he tries to sound unbothered and casual, even as his hand clenches yours, that same strained grin on his lips, "Of course, they really couldn't handle me--most of them were small time demons some big shot sent after me, but whatever I drank really put a damper on my coordination skills, because it took me all night to fight my way out of there. Still, I got the job done."

Looking you over, Dante tries to give you a confident smile before he frowns, suddenly focusing in on the side of your neck. Sitting up, Dante reaches a hand over to run a thumb along the sensitive bruise there, "The hell? Did the demon--did he do that to you?"

Your brows raised, "I, well, yeah, but I didn't know he was a demon at the time he did."

"So, let me get this straight," Dante tilts just slightly away from you, one hand falling to your knee to steady himself while the other remains poised where it is on your shoulder. With an icy bemused, dark look, Dante continues, "You slept with a demon? What happened to having a 'shit' night?"

You feel your headache lessen as the aspirins kick in, despite your growing agitation. You scowl at Dante and shake his hand off of your shoulder until it falls to grip the arm rest of your chair, "I slept with a guy I thought was _human_ , because the guy I wanted to sleep with ditched me at the bar!"

"I-" Dante stops, "Wait, really?"

Distantly, you feel Dante's hand on your knee shift just the slightest bit upwards, but you're too annoyed and embarrassed at now having to reveal your darkest secret to him to notice, "You're kidding me, right?" When Dante makes no move to reply, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, "I really fucking want you, Dante. I always have; why do you think I agreed to let you take me to the bar yesterday? Because I like to drink? No, it's because I thought that if I got liquored up enough I could muster up the courage to hit on you, and when you inevitably turned me down, I'd be three steps away from the nearest bartender to soak up my sorrows and pretend I didn't mean it!"

Dante just stares at you with the same dark look in his eyes for a few seconds, before he stands wordlessly. You feel your stomach drop, but don't say anything, just grab the sides of your chair in an attempt to scoot out and run away, fearing you just really fucked up, until you're suddenly grabbed up by your waist and pressed up against the nearest wall, "What, I-"

Dante's lips slant on yours, moving gentle, but firm, as his hands smooth down to grab your ass and hoist your legs around his hips. You stare at him, wide-eyed before you melt into the kiss and return it. Encouraged by your response, Dante doubles his efforts, and grins against you before moving away to follow the line of your jaw with soft kisses until he finds your lips again, briefly, and pulls away with a smirk, "For the record, I took you out, because I wanted to get the chance to hit on _you_ , but this?" Dante presses down to kiss you again, chastely, "This works, too."

You smile sheepishly, "Maybe we should have just stayed here, huh?"

"Well, I don't think we have any jobs to work on today," Dante trails off, shifting where he's pressed up between your thighs, "And I'd really like to make last night up to you..." he grinds against you, and, immediately, your thighs clench around him, heat coloring your cheeks, "So, what do you say? Wanna try to celebrate your birthday, the right way?"

"Yes-" you start, but before you can even finish your thought, Dante's kissing you again as he picks you up and carries you to his room in the back, his hands roaming all over your back, slipping into your hair while he kicks his door open and then promptly closed. Gently, Dante draws back to he lay you on his bed and promptly begin undressing you.

When you're down to your panties and bra, Dante pauses to admire you, grasping your hands and urging them away when you go to cover yourself abashedly. He smiles at you and leans down to kiss your cheek and then just above your navel, "You're beautiful," he whispers.

You look at him with an entertained, although uncertain expression, "I'm already going to sleep with you, Dante, you don't have to try to butter me up."

You sit up to watch when Dante steps back, scoffing slightly as he shucks his jacket and pants, "What? You don't believe me?" he asks, kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed before crooking his finger to coax you forward. Instead, you stay put, suddenly feeling extremely exposed, because Dante isn't just some random guy you met at the bar, he's Dante the demon-slayer, the savior of humankind, the unattainable work partner, and you might have deeper feelings than just wanting to sleep with him like you implied before.

"Yeah, why don't we just-" you try to start, before you yelp as Dante grabs your calf and pulls you down until your knees are slung over his shoulders and you sex is inches away from his mouth. You arch up on your elbows to glare down at him, "Y'know, I'm getting kinda tired of you always interrupting me when I'm trying to say something important."

"Sorry, sweetheart, but can you blame me?" he laughs, glancing you up and down you as he presses kisses along the insides of your thighs, getting so close to where you want him, but not quite there, as one of his hands comes up to grip your hip, "You're gorgeous."

You clench the sheets beneath your palms at his teasing, "Y-you don't mean that. Let's just- _oh, fuck..._ " you whimper, when Dante suddenly drags a finger up the center of your damp panties, brushing the pad of it along the sensitive nub there to gently rub you through the cloth.

Again, Dante chuckles, "You don't believe me?", he asks, hot breath ghosting along your thighs while he slips his finger down and beneath the crotch of your panties to pull it to the side, exposing your sex to the cool air. As he leans forward, you shiver and instinctively grasp his hair, "Let me prove it to you."


End file.
